Coggler's Brood (Work in Progress)

Chapter 2

"Why Nina swift, such a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, again. And you brought a friend. Mr McGraw, I presume." Stan Wellingham is the 'Man,' the linchpin of crime on New Frisco, but his influence stretches further than the confines of this one platform—something I'm banking on.

He stands frozen behind a large wooden desk in the business building we just invaded. Jack and I didn't ask for an appointment, we merely barged into Wellingham's premises, guns drawn, and kicked in his office door. Everyone in the room is pointing a gun, except Stan Wellingham: two business acquaintances (one male, one female), me, Jack, and three heavies, aiming their guns in from the outer office we just passed through. Getting in is easy; extracting ourselves will be much more difficult.

Jack inclines his head towards Wellingham in recognition. By nature of their respective businesses, they are already acquainted with each other.

"Is this a raid, Mr McGraw?" The gangster asks in a voice that belies the nervous tension in the room.

"No." Jack lowers his pistol. "Sorry about the door."

I follow suit and return my weapon to the holster on my hip.

Jack can't bring himself to meet Stan's eyes, instead, he stares fixedly at some point on the wall, "Nina is here on urgent business."

"So this is all your doing, Miss Swift? You know, Nina, the last time I set eyes on you, my brother was floating off in a balloon that was riddled with holes, and you were disappearing with a very special weapon. I don't suppose you still have that do you?"

"Ah... Yes, how is your brother?" I ask tentatively. I thought maybe Stan had forgotten the incident with his brother, if not forgiven me entirely — he had, after all, taken over the crime empire his brother founded. You could say, if you were feeling generous, I had done him a favour.

Stan, whose face pinches in at the nose and mouth, reminding me of a shrew, levels his beady gaze at me, "He is still in prison. Where you put him." Perhaps Stan has not forgiven me.

I can feel Jack's eyes staring at me in horror.

I find myself shifting uncomfortably from on leg to the other. "Er, yes, about that –"

"–And when he's finally released, he would dearly like to make your acquaintance again, so he can pay you back. In fact, I have been keeping tabs on you, just so I can lead him to you myself." Okay, definitely not feeling generous, or remotely grateful. "Don't worry, though," Stan says, "I'm not going to hurt you." He must see the look of alarm on my face that I'm desperately trying to hide. "I'm going to save that privilege for my brother."

Jack, looking ashen, turns towards the door of Wellingham's sumptuous office. "This is a mistake, Nina. We should go."

But one of Wellingham's heavies, dressed in a shabby suit that is too small, moves carefully to block the door, treating us to a gap-toothed smile through thick stubble.

"If you would excuse us," Stan says to his business acquaintances, who have been staring in alarm from one drawn gun to another, "It appears I have some urgent business to discuss." The man and woman are ushered out of the office by Wellingham's gansters, leaving one to guard the door. At the mention of 'business' all weapons magically disappear into their holsters.

Stan seats himself behind the desk, in a richly upholstered leather chair, and folds his arms over his chest. He doesn't offer Jack or I a seat. "So what is this business proposition, so urgent it requires the destruction of my office door?"

Jack nods his head towards me, wordlessly. Obviously, he has decided, I am the one doing the talking.

I swallow, with difficulty, to clear the sudden lump in my throat. "well, I kind of need your help."